


Carmen in Tenebris

by siriusblue



Series: In A Hundred Lifetimes [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV), The Sound of Music - Rodgers/Hammerstein/Lindsay & Crouse
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - The Sound of Music Fusion, Charles Augustus Magnussen Being Creepy, Classical Music, Difficult Decisions, First Kiss, Greg is Sweet, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Sherlock is a Brat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-07-17 10:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16093970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusblue/pseuds/siriusblue
Summary: Sound of Music AU. Older novice monk Gregory Lestrade is sent by his abbey to be the tutor to the Holmes family at Musgrave Hall. The family, led by the enigmatic Captain Mycroft Holmes, prove to be a challenge for Gregory but his discovery of their love for music creates a special bond.Captain Holmes is disgusted by the rise of the far-right in England and consoles himself with the charms of the very rich Lord Smallwood, abandoning his siblings for the lure of London, not realising that the cure for his loneliness is there at Musgrave.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> If you've seen the film then you'll know exactly how this story goes. I've taken a few liberties with the plot and the family dynamics. Some of the dialogue is from what I remember of the film, the rest is entirely mine.
> 
> The story title translates as 'A Song in the Dark'.

CARMEN IN TENEBRIS

  
  


A  _ Sound of Music  _ Mystrade AU 

  
  
  


Brother Gregory sneaked out of the novices dormitory clutching his guitar and crept down the stairs. Brother Philip snored like a drunken rhino and Gregory knew he wouldn't be missed for a while. He'd make it back for the first office of the day, he told himself.

 

Besides, he had promised.

 

Sister Clare shook her head despairingly as she answered his furtive knock on the orphanage door and ushered him inside.

 

“Father Abbot will be cross with you if he finds out about this,” she warned him. Gregory gave her the benefit of his warmest smile.

 

“Only if I get caught, Sister. And I promised the little ones.”

 

Her stern expression softened.

 

“Very well. They've just finished breakfast. Go on in.”

 

Gregory walked along the bleak corridor to the dining hall and went inside. A bunch of children of all ages greeted his arrival with cheers while some of the littlest ones rushed over to hug him.

 

Gregory felt his heart warm at the sight of their excited faces when he unshipped his guitar. The good Lord knew they had little enough pleasure in their lives though that was no fault of the nuns who ran the place. Money was scarce everywhere and only the absolute basics could be guaranteed.

 

God had given Gregory a talent and he had no qualms about breaking abbey rules in order to use it to bring a little joy into the lives of those who had none.

 

He played an experimental chord and, pleased with the tuning, asked the children for requests.

 

*

 

“Father Abbot, I can't find Gregory anywhere. I've looked in all the usual places.”

 

Father Michael smiled benignly at the frazzled novice master who had accosted him in the courtyard after Mass.

 

“Knowing Gregory, perhaps you should look in the  _ unusual _ places. Tell me, Brother Philip. Do you think Gregory has the makings of a monk?”

 

Brother Philip’s naturally sweet expression soured.

 

“I honestly don't know, Father. He's at least twice as old as the rest of the novices. He's lived a life before deciding to dedicate himself to God and I feel sometimes that he chafes against the Rule. However he's very likeable and Brother Peter tells me that he has a lot of time and patience for the novices who are not as gifted as he is. You've seen his work in the scriptorium, it is almost incandescent in its beauty. And he's always ready to help out at the orphanage, a duty most of my novices avoid like the plague. I believe he is a good man. Whether or not he will be a good monk remains to be seen.”

 

Father Michael nodded sagely.

 

“I understand. However his age should not deter him. One never knows when one may be called to serve and he obviously thought his time was now.”

 

“You like him.”

 

“I do. He makes me laugh. And when he is caught in a transgression his penitence is heartfelt. I believe we may make a Benedictine out of him yet.”

 

The sound of running feet made the two monks look around and a tall man with thick greying hair in a novice’s habit hurtled into the courtyard, saw the two monks looking at him and stopped dead.

 

Father Michael pretended not to hear the oath that Gregory muttered under his breath as he walked over to them, his hands tucked in the sleeve of his habit and his head bowed in contrition.

 

“Late again, Gregory?”

 

“I'm sorry, Father Abbot.”

 

“I don't doubt it. How are the.orphans this morning?”

 

Gregory sighed and hung his head even further.

 

“When you have finished your kitchen duties report to my office. Off with you!”

 

“Yes, Father.” Gregory muttered and scuttled away.

 

*

 

Gregory knocked on the door of Father Michael’s office and hearing ‘Come in” opened the door. He crossed the room, knelt and kissed the ring on Father Michael’s extended hand.

 

“I'm so sorry,Father.” Gregory blurted out. “It's just the little ones had been asking when I would go and play for them again and some of them have been poorly…”

 

“Gregory,” Father Michael interrupted. “I didn't ask you here for apologies. However, if it would make you feel better….”

 

“It would. The orphanage was what led me to the abbey. I grew up there and I would hear the monks singing on their way to Vespers, I would see them working in the gardens, helping the unfortunate with everything done for the glory of God. Even though my life took a different turn I always hoped I could come back.”

 

“When you saw us all those years ago, Gregory, and longed to be one of us you weren't quite prepared for the way we live here, were you?”

 

“No, Father. But I pray and I  _ am _ learning. Honestly.”

 

“What is the most important lesson you have learned here, my son?”

 

Gregory shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He hated being put on the spot like this and had a terrible fear that he was about to be asked to leave. However, he tried.

 

“To find out what is the will of God and to do it wholeheartedly.” Gregory replied.

 

Father Michael stood up and smiled benignly.

 

“Gregory, it seems to be the will of God that you leave us.”

 

“Leave?” Gregory was crushed.

 

“Only for a little while. If you were to go back into the world knowing what the monastery expects of you, you may discover if it is what you expect of yourself.”

 

Gregory straightened up. A chance to prove he had made the right decision in coming to the abbey. That his vocation was a true one. He could do that.

 

Father Michael picked up a letter from his desk.

 

“There is a family in Surrey which needs a tutor until September to take care of four children. I know you like children, Gregory.”

 

“Yes I do.”

 

“Very well. I shall tell Captain Holmes to expect you tomorrow.”

 

“Captain?”

 

“A retired Army captain. His parents died in a car accident some time ago, leaving him to look after his younger siblings. With you being ex-Navy I imagine you will not lack for conversation. I believe he has had problems keeping a tutor.”

 

“What sort of problems?” Gregory asked.

 

“The Lord will show you in his own time.” Father Michael concluded with an amused glint in his eye.

 

“Right.” said Gregory.

 

*

 

Early the next morning, Gregory left the abbey by the wicket gate.

 

“God be with you, Gregory.” Brother Stephen the gatekeeper was appallingly cheerful for that time of day.

 

“I'll be back before you know it.” Gregory told him with an engaging grin.

 

As he made his way to the bus station with his guitar in one hand and his old Navy rucksack on his back Gregory’s smile at being out in the world didn't take long to falter.

 

The posters were everywhere. 

 

**REMEMBER THE CURFEW**

 

**I.D. MUST BE IN YOUR.POSSESSION AT ALL TIMES. OFFENDERS WILL BE DETAINED.**

 

And everywhere the slogans of the fast-rising new political party screamed at him.

 

**HAIL VICTORY**

 

**SEMPER VIGILO**

 

Gregory shook his head. He was quite sure that he hadn't served his country and fought in a war for this. And if this was part of God’s plan then Gregory thought it might be worth mentioning in his prayers tonight that he thought it was a terrible idea.

 

The bus station was busy with families and young people all in a hurry to get somewhere.

 

Gregory handed his ticket to the bus driver as he got on and settled into the back seat.

 

Once the bus had pulled out of the station with a belch of diesel fumes, Gregory unfolded the letter Father Abbot had pressed on him the night before and read it again.

 

_ You will be met at Godalming bus station. I believe Musgrave Hall is deep in the countryside so be patient and wait. _

 

_ Enclosed is your bus ticket and your identity card. DO NOT LOSE EITHER OF THEM. _

 

_ Good luck and may God be with you. _

 

_ Your brother in Christ _

 

_ Fr. Michael Stamford. _

 

Greg stared out of the window as London with its dirty buildings, noisy traffic and suspicious eyes everywhere receded behind him giving way to sunlit countryside where Gregory thought he could actually breathe.

 

He was the only passenger to get off at Godalming and was approached by a thin man in servants livery.

 

“You Gregory? The new tutor for the Holmes family?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“This way.”

 

Outside the bus station was a gleaming Bentley which the other man gestured at Gregory to get in. He tried to take up as little space as possible on the luxuriant leather seat feeling impossibly grubby in the clothes he was wearing. 

 

The driver was completely silent throughout the trip which did nothing to settle Gregory's already jangling nerves and when the car pulled into a long gravel drive which led to what could only be described as a mansion, Gregory began wishing he was back at the abbey.

 

He got out of the car and stood there while the other man opened the enormous front door and beckoned him inside.

 

The entrance hall of Musgrave was a symphony in marble and crystal and Gregory wondered at its beauty.

 

“You will stay here,” said the man. “I will go and inform the Captain that you have arrived.”

 

Gregory watched the man disappear through another door. Gregory had always known his curiosity wasn't one of his best attributes but he couldn't help himself sometimes. And that set of doors looked particularly inviting…

 

They led to what had once been a ballroom. It was now shrouded in dust sheets but nothing had been done to cover the paintings.

 

Portraits, Gregory realised as he took a closer look. A handsome older couple with beaming smiles in evening wear. The woman had unusually coloured eyes which the artist had done their best to render on canvas. Then a family portrait. Two boys who could only have been twins, an older boy, plump and uncertain and two young girls. Their resemblance to each other and the couple in the other portrait was striking. Gregory knew he was looking at the Holmes family.

 

The ballroom doors crashed open and a tall, auburn haired man in an exquisitely tailored three-piece suit stood there, his expression bleak.

 

Gregory scuttled out of the ballroom and stood in the hallway feeling like the world's biggest idiot.

 

“In the future you will remember that there are rooms in this house that are not to be disturbed.” said, presumably, Captain Holmes.

 

Aye, aye, Captain Bluebeard thought Gregory with a touch of irreverence.

 

“Yes, Captain.” he said as the other man closed the door firmly and turned again to Gregory.

 

Mycroft walked around Gregory, frowning.

 

“You look far too old to be a novice monk. And these clothes,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “You will have to put on something else before you meet my family.”

 

“I don't have anything else!” Gregory protested. The almoner had done his best but Gregory knew he resembled a scarecrow in his too-big trousers and too-short-in-the-arms jacket. He sought to explain.

 

“When we join the abbey all our worldly clothes are given to the.poor, you see.”

 

“What about those?” Captain Holmes asked.

 

“The poor didn't want those.” replied Gregory wryly. “The orphanage trained me as a tailor, Captain Holmes. I can make new clothes for myself. Used to in the Navy.”

 

Gregory noticed a spark of interest, quickly extinguished, at his mention of the Navy.

 

“I shall see to it that you get material. Today, if possible. Now, Brother...er…”

 

“Call me Gregory. I won't be a Brother till I take my final vows.”

 

“Gregory then. I have had trouble retaining a tutor for my siblings. Most find them impossible to deal with.”

 

“How?”

 

“I cannot answer that. Sherlock and Sherrinford are twins. Only our mother could successfully tell them apart. Then there is Eurus and then Molly. My parents adopted Molly after she lost her own parents. They are all extremely intelligent and their previous tutors found it impossible to maintain discipline. Without discipline this house cannot function. Is that understood?”

 

“Um, yes?”

 

“Very good.” Captain Holmes looked as if he knew Gregory was already having doubts. “It's time you met them.”

 

The Captain strode over to the huge gong that stood in the hallway and struck it, the noise reverberating through the house.

 

“Here they come,” said Captain Holmes.

  
  


TBC

 


	2. Chapter Two

“It is vital that my brothers and sisters maintain their academic studies as well as physical discipline. Do you understand?”

 

“But it's the summer holidays!” Gregory protested.

 

Mycroft raised a questioning eyebrow.

 

“So?”

 

Greg heard the thundering of feet and within seconds the hall was full of people.

 

First downstairs were two teenage boys identical down to the last dark curl, quickly followed by a younger girl with long dark hair and finally, with her nose in a book, the youngest member of the family. Her eyes, when she looked at Greg, were a deep brown compared to the others.

 

They formed a line facing their older brother who frowned and took the book away from the younger girl.

 

“Pay attention.” Mycroft began. “This is your new tutor, Mr Gregory. You will introduce yourselves in turn. Begin.”

 

One of the teenaged boys stepped forward.

 

“Sherrinford. I'm the elder.”

 

“By ten minutes.” his twin protested, subsiding under a glare from Mycroft. Then he stepped forward.

 

“Sherlock.”

 

Then the elder girl.

 

“Eurus,” she said, looking curiously at Gregory and beckoning to the youngest of the family.

 

“Molly,” she said shyly.

 

“When you wish their attention, you will bang on the gong. I will not be disturbed by you going around shouting for them. Is that clear?” Mycroft asked Gregory.

 

Gregory would have laughed but it appeared Captain Holmes was serious.

 

“Why don't I just whistle for them instead?” Gregory asked irreverently. “I've probably still got my whistle in my kitbag somewhere.”

 

“Don't be absurd!” Mycroft snapped. “Learn to use the gong. Were you this much trouble at the abbey?”

 

“I was much worse.” Gregory confessed.

 

Mycroft turned and strode out of the hall leaving Gregory with his charges. He smiled in the face of their utter indifference.

 

“Now that it's just us, tell me your names again.”

 

“Your poor retention of facts doesn't bode well for you remaining here as a tutor.” This was from who Gregory thought was Sherlock.

 

“Maybe I'm just not good with names.” Gregory suggested.

 

The young people looked at each other then one of the teenagers stepped close to Gregory.

 

“I'm Sherrinford. Or Trouble In Trousers as Mr Smith used to call me.” His smile was wide and guileless but Gregory wasn't fooled for a second. His twin joined him, scowling.

 

“I'm Sherlock. We're seventeen and don't need a tutor, not when we're going to Cambridge in September.”

 

“You might be, Sherly. “ added Eurus. “But Molly and I are not. I'm twelve.” she added for Gregory's benefit. “Mr Smith called me impossible.”

 

“I take it you prefer Eurus?” Gregory asked and she giggled.

 

“And I'm Molly. I'm nine. Mr Smith decided to tell Mycroft I was unteachable.”

 

“I don't think there's any such thing,” said Gregory with a smile. “I've got to admit, I've never been an official tutor before. So…”

 

“No,” interrupted Sherlock rudely. “You're ex-Navy going by the tattoo on your forearm. You prefer male lovers and have cultivated a few…”

 

“And you decided to join the Benedictine Order to atone for your sins.” Sherrinford concluded.

 

Gregory realised his mouth was agape and quickly shut it.

 

“Two out of three isn't bad,” he admitted. “Good luck working out which one, you surly little git.”

 

Eurus and Molly grinned at each other while the twins looked disappointed.

 

“I know that you're all incredibly brilliant,” said Gregory and grinned to himself as they tried not to preen. “But your brother seems to think that you all need a tutor. As opposed to a jailer.”

 

“Fatcroft only knows what's best for himself. Keep him supplied with cake and wine and he won't bother you again.” said Sherrinford helpfully.

 

“Nothing wrong with a few simple pleasures,” said Gregory. “And your brother is not fat.”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes dramatically and Molly slapped him on the arm.

 

Just then an older woman walked into the hall and clapped her hands once. To Gregory's astonishment the boys and girls snapped to attention.

 

“Outside the lot of you,” said the woman firmly. “At least an hour in the grounds for fresh air. Chop, chop!”

 

As they filed out the woman looked at Gregory.

 

“Hello, dear. I'm Mrs Hudson, the housekeeper. What's your name?”

 

“Gregory.”

  
  


“Hello, Gregory. I'll show you to your room if you want to follow me.”

 

Gregory picked up his knapsack and his guitar and followed the diminutive figure upstairs.

 

“They are lovely children really,” said Mrs Hudson. “They are just a bit lost without their parents. Mycroft, Captain Holmes, does his best but he never expected this. So they act up. It's only.natural. Ah, here we are.”

 

Gregory was relieved. This house was twice the size of the Abbey. He'd get lost a hundred times a day.

 

The room she showed him was three times the size of his cell at the abbey with a big comfortable bed in the centre.

 

“You should be fine in here, Gregory. Dinner is at seven. I'd change if I were you though, dear.” she concluded, eyeing his clothes.

 

“I don't have anything to change.into “ he explained.

 

“Oh. You know my late husband was about your size. I've still got some of his stuff here. That is if you don't mind wearing dead men’s clothes.”

 

“If you can give me a needle and thread I can make them look like new,” said Gregory with a smile.

 

“Oh, you  _ will  _ be handy to have around. I'll go and see what I can find.”

 

With that, she bustled off leaving Gregory to unpack. It didn't take long to put his nightshirt under the pillow, his Bible on the bedside table and tuck his spare underthings in a drawer.

 

He wondered how Brother Peter was getting on with the new illustration of the gospels and felt a pang of homesickness for the abbey, its regularity and the soft voices of his brethren, but before he could feel too maudlin, Mrs Hudson returned with her arms full of garments. She dumped them on his bed and turned to him.

 

“Use whatever you can, the rest can go to the charity shop. And here you go, just in case you need it.”

 

She handed Gregory a sewing box and a pair of scissors honed to lethal sharpness.

 

“This is incredibly generous of you,” said Gregory.

 

“Nonsense. Time I had a clear out anyway. I'll leave you to it.”

 

Once she had gone, Gregory sorted through the clothes. They were of good quality and had been laundered recently. To his delight, they only needed small alterations in order to fit him and he set to with enthusiasm.

 

*

 

The Holmes family were all seated around the table in the dining room and Mycroft resisted the urge to check his pocket watch again. The new tutor was late for dinner. This was unacceptable when Mycroft had stressed more than once how he valued punctuality and routine.

 

They heard footsteps followed by a ripe Naval oath which Sherlock and Sherrinford filed away avidly for future use then the door to the dining room opened and Gregory stepped inside.

 

“I'm sorry I'm late. This house is so big I got lost.”

 

Mycroft stared. He couldn't help himself. The ugly scarecrow from this morning had been transformed into an incredibly handsome man by the mere addition of one of Mr Hudson's old suits.

 

“It's fine,” croaked Mycroft to the general astonishment of everyone, not least Mycroft himself.  “Please, sit down and we can begin.”

 

Gregory took his seat at the opposite end of the table and immediately jumped up again.

 

“Are you all right?” Mycroft enquired.

 

“Touch of rheumatism.” Gregory muttered, sliding the massive pine cone that had been lurking on his chair under the table as the younger siblings sniggered into their napkins.

 

The meal was interrupted by Mr Anderson, the cadaverous butler cum footman.

 

“Telegram for you, Captain.” he said, handing Mycroft a buff envelope.

 

“Thank you,” said Mycroft, slitting it open with his knife.

 

“Who delivered it, Philip?” Sherlock asked. Gregory’s eyes narrowed as he sensed the question was a loaded one.

 

“Young Watson.” 

 

Sherlock managed to conceal his glee by dipping his head but not before Gregory saw it and smiled to himself.

 

Mycroft read the telegram and folded it neatly, placing it beside his plate.

 

“Well, I'm off to London tomorrow.”

 

There was a collective groan from the whole family.

 

“Off to see Lord Smallwood again?” Sherrinford enquired.

 

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

 

“And how long will you be gone, brother mine? You were away a month last time.” Sherlock asked.

 

“I'm not entirely sure,” Mycroft admitted.

 

“When will  _ we _ get to meet Lord Smallwood?” demanded Eurus.

 

“As a matter of fact, I'm going to bring him back to Musgrave with me so he can meet you all.”

 

“Ooh!” Molly exclaimed, clapping her hands. “That's romantic!”

 

“Nauseating, more like. Excuse me, Mycroft. I have no desire to.listen to you drone on about your paramour all night. I will see you at breakfast.”

 

“Sherlock, don't speak like that in front of your sisters. That's rude.” said Gregory, a hint of steel in his voice.

 

Sherlock looked affronted then bowed to Eurus and Molly, then Mycroft.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said, then turned on his heel and left.

 

_ It's been a long time since anyone has said  _ no  _ to you, you little sod.  _ Gregory thought.  _ Better get used to it, your brother doesn't need the grief. _

 

Mycroft looked at Gregory with something like respect.

 

“If you'll excuse me also, Captain. It's been a long day and unless my senses are deceiving me, there's going to be a thunderstorm. Goodnight, everyone.”

 

*

 

Sherlock hurried through the grounds in the direction of the summerhouse and laughed when he caught sight of the bicycle propped up against a tree.

 

“John!” 

 

A shorter boy with fair hair and a beaming smile appeared from behind the tree.

 

“Hello, Sherlock. I hoped you'd manage to escape for a while.”

 

“I haven't seen you for ages,” said Sherlock with a pout. “If I didn't know better I'd say Fatcroft had put up a telegram embargo.”

 

“I missed you too,” admitted John. “But it won't be for much longer. We'll be at Cambridge in September and we'll be together like we always wanted.”

 

Sherlock smiled at that thought as he and John embraced.

 

“It's all I ever wanted,” he murmured into the soft skin of John’s neck.

 

John raised his face for a kiss and, as always when their lips met, time seemed to dissolve and only the sudden downpour of rain made them spring apart, suddenly drenched.

 

“Shit,” muttered John, his uniform drenched. “I'd better get back. How are you going to explain that if you're caught?” he asked, gesturing at Sherlock's wet clothes.

 

“I never get caught. I'll get in through the tutor's bedroom while he drinks port and pretends to look interested in what Blimpcroft has to say.”

 

“Good luck,” laughed John, reclaiming his bike and cycling away in the torrential rain.

 

Sherlock stood there watching him disappear into the distance, the tips of his fingers touching the lips John had kissed with such tenderness.

 

Realising he was getting cold and uncomfortable, Sherlock stalked to the side of the house where Gregory's bedroom was. To his relief the window was open.

 

“Piece of cake,” he muttered as he grasped the drainpipe and began to climb.

  
  


TBC

 


	3. Chapter Three

Gregory left the bedroom window open. He'd always loved a good thunderstorm and how it cleared the air making everything feel fresh and new again.

 

He changed into a pair of pyjamas then blessed himself and knelt by the side of the bed, his hands in a prayerful pose.

 

“Dear Father,” he began.”Well, I made it and I'm beginning to see why You sent me here. This family has been too sad for too long, they need some fun in their lives. Especially the little ones. Mind You, the journey wasn't fun with all the checks and, seriously Father, what is with all the propaganda? I'm sure it's all part of Your plan but I'll tell you now, it's frightening.”

 

Gregory heard a scratching outside the window but pretended to ignore it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a dripping-wet Sherlock haul himself over the windowsill and try to tiptoe past him.

 

“Bless Father Abbot and my brethren at the abbey. Bless Sherlock and Sherrinford, Eurus and Molly and special blessings for Captain Holmes who has a lot to put up with. Mrs Hudson too. Amen”

 

Greg blessed himself again and got to his feet where Sherlock had stopped dead, guilt written all over his face.

 

“You know, this house has a lot of doors,” said Greg amiably. “Practising for climbing Everest, lad?”

 

“I was in the garden taking a stroll after dinner and for some reason the doors were locked. It's not a difficult climb, Sherrinford managed it once with a jarful of spiders.”

 

Greg shuddered but smiled at the look of pride on Sherlock's face.

 

“Alone on this walk were you?”

 

“Not...exactly. John was there so we talked for a while.”

 

“Who's John?”

 

“He's my...friend. Mycroft doesn't approve.”

 

“Whyever not?” Gregory asked, not buying the ‘'friend’ line for a second.

 

“He doesn't want anything distracting me from my studies.” complained Sherlock. “John is every bit as committed. He's been accepted to read medicine at Cambridge.”

 

The pride and affection in the young man's face made Gregory nostalgic for his younger self and for the very first time he had ever fallen in love.

 

“That's good. The world could always use more doctors.” He studied Sherlock. “You know, if we rinse that suit out it will be fine by tomorrow and no one need ever know.”

 

Gregory rummaged in the chest of drawers and pulled out a nightshirt which he handed to Sherlock. 

 

“Take the lot off and stick them in the bath and put that on before you catch your death.”

 

To his amazement Sherlock obeyed without demur, opening the door to the en-suite bathroom.

 

“I know I said I didn't need a tutor,” said Sherlock. “But I think there's quite a lot you could teach me about life.”

 

Gregory made shooing motions with his hands and Sherlock disappeared with a grin just as a particularly loud clap of thunder threatened to split the sky in two.

 

There was the sound of running feet and a small nightdress-clad figure threw itself into Gregory's arms.

 

“Molly, are you frightened of the thunder?” Gregory asked gently. He felt her nod against him.

 

“Where are the others?” 

 

The reply was muffled as Molly clung to him like a limpet.

 

“They're asleep. They're not scared.”

 

There was another resounding crash of thunder, swiftly followed by Eurus and Sherrinford, the latter attempting to look nonchalant and failing miserably.

 

“We,er, thought we'd check you weren't frightened by the thunder. Eurus was worried.”

 

Eurus glared at her brother and looked beseechingly at Gregory as the thunder sounded again.

 

“All right, come in. Lots of room in here,” said Gregory with a smile.

 

“Why is it so loud?” Molly wailed, still refusing to let go.

 

“Perfectly natural meteorological phenomenon,” scoffed Sherrinford then paled as the natural phenomenon came close to rattling the windows.

 

“Brother Stuart at the orphanage used to say that thunder was the sound of God rattling his beer bottles,” said Gregory with a smile. “When anything bothers me and makes me unhappy or frightened, I try to think of nice things. Then it doesn't seem so bad.”

 

“What sort of things?” chorused the children.

 

“When I was on the convoys I would look up on a clear night and there would be stars as far as anyone could see. It was beautiful.”

 

“Puppies with wet noses,” said Molly.

 

“Sunflowers in the field,” added Eurus.

 

“Christmas morning,” admitted Sherrinford.

 

Sherlock slipped out of the bathroom while the others were distracted and added.

 

“Telegrams. Burning magnesium.”

 

“Boring.” Sherrinford scoffed. “Photosynthesis. Hive minds.”

 

As they all tried to outdo each other they barely noticed the thunder but Gregory noticed it moving away and was glad.

 

They were so engrossed in discussing whether hot chocolate tasted better with whipped cream or without that they didn't notice the bedroom door open until Mycroft was in the middle of them, his expression furious.

 

“Did I not tell you that bedtimes were to be strictly enforced in this house, Gregory?”

 

“The little ones were upset by the storm,” said Gregory defensively.

 

“Do you have difficulty understanding simple instructions?” Mycroft asked.

 

“Only during thunderstorms,” muttered Gregory.

 

Mycroft turned his furious glare on the rest of the family.

 

“Sherlock! I don't recall seeing you after dinner. Where have you been?”

 

Gregory watched the boy become flustered and stepped in.

 

“Your brother and I have been getting better acquainted.” he said. “Go on, you heard your brother. Back to bed with you.”

 

They scuttled off and Mycroft glared at Gregory.

 

“The first rule in this house is discipline. I hope by the time I return from London you will have acquired some.”

 

Mycroft turned and walked out, completely missing the scowl and not hearing the wet raspberry Gregory blew in his direction.

 

“Fat chance.” Gregory muttered as he pulled back the covers on the bed, checked for spiders twice, and got in.

 

*

 

The next few days, free of Mycroft's baleful influence, were a revelation both for the Holmes siblings and their tutor.

 

Gregory encouraged them outside into the fields and meadows around Musgrave where the grass grew lush and thick and the flowers were in full bloom. Sherrinford took it upon himself to teach Gregory, a city boy to his roots, all about the trees and flowers they came across on their rambles.

 

“Boring,” yawned Sherlock as he pelted Eurus and Molly with daisies. “Thought you were going to be a biologist, not a botanist Sherry.”

 

“Plants are biology as well, you clot. I just can't believe someone as old as Gregory can't tell an oak from an ash.”

 

“Oi, you cheeky little sod! I'm not that old.” Gregory objected.

 

“You're older than Mycroft,” said Eurus. “And he's ancient. But you're not boring like him.”

 

“Thank you,” said Gregory graciously. “Now, how about we have a picnic down by the lake tomorrow if the sun's shining? I can show you how to make paper boats that won't sink.”

 

The girls clapped their hands with glee and the boys silently agreed that it wouldn't be a _ complete _ waste of their valuable time.

 

*

 

Replete with sandwiches and other portable foodstuffs the Holmes children and their stuffed tutor relaxed in the edge of the lake. Gregory was wearing a daisy chain crown made for him by Molly and Eurus and felt at peace with the world. Sherlock and Sherrinford had been fascinated by the application of paraffin wax to the paper boats while the girls were thrilled that theirs didn't sink.

 

“This is brilliant,” grinned Sherrinford. “We haven't had this much fun since Sherly put his chemistry experiment in Miss Smith's tea.” 

 

“I thought her presenting with green hair was a marked improvement.” said Sherlock with a broad smile.

 

“Remind me never to leave my tea unguarded,” sighed Gregory. “I don't understand you lot. You are lovely kids, mostly. Why do you play such horrible pranks on people?”

 

“That's easy,” replied Molly guilelessly while the others glared at her. “How else can we get Mycroft's attention?”

 

“You poor things,” sighed Gregory. “We'll have to do something about that. Now, how about you learn a song to sing for Lord Smallwood to welcome him to Musgrave?”

 

“Mycroft doesn't like us singing,” said Sherrinford heavily. “None of us have sung or played our instruments since our parents died.”

 

Gregory felt his heart crack anew.

 

“We'll see about that,” he.muttered.

 

TBC

  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this, RL strikes again.

Gregory made the rest of the family wait in the drawing room while he ran upstairs and grabbed his guitar. When he got back down, they had vanished.

 

“In here,” said Sherrinford helpfully from the previously-forbidden ballroom. As Gregory went inside he saw Sherlock grinning with pride at the unlocked piano and Eurus blushing as she pushed the hair grip back in place.

 

“We thought it might be easier with...oh.”

 

There was absolutely no mistaking the hunger in Sherlock's eyes when he saw Gregory's guitar.

 

“You've got an instrument,” concluded Sherlock.

 

“It's all right, I can play the piano as well if one of you wants to accompany me.”

 

Gregory smiled to himself at the silent argument between the two brothers culminating in Sherlock taking the guitar and lovingly caressing the strings.

 

“We were all taught to play an instrument,” Eurus told him artlessly. “I think Mummy and Father had ideas of having their own string quartet. Of course Mycroft had to be the odd one out, he learned the piano.”

 

“Music's important,” agreed Gregory. “What do you play?”

 

“Violin, same as Sherlock. Sherrinford plays the cello and Molly was learning the viola.”

 

“I'm not very good but I was getting a lot better before…” said Molly and Gregory's heart ached for the sadness in her eyes.

 

“Maybe we can convince Mycroft to let you all continue with your lessons. The way the world is going now, music is going to be more important than ever. Now then, do you all know _Scarborough Fair_?”

 

There was a round of enthusiastic nodding and Gregory grinned as he took his seat at the piano.

 

*

 

Lord Smallwood rested an easy hand on Mycroft's thigh as the drove through the shade-dappled countryside on their way to Musgrave.

 

“Beautiful countryside. I should get out of London more.” he said.

 

Mycroft favoured him with a teasing smile.

 

“Yes, you should.”

 

There was a groan from the back seat and Mycroft glared at the man trying his best to ruin the moment.

 

“Anything to add, Uncle Rudy?”

 

His maternal uncle merely grimaced as the last of his hangover started to dissipate.

 

“Doctor Johnson said when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. There's bugger all to recommend the countryside, Mycroft, and you know it.”

 

“It has its compensations,” said Lord Smallwood, squeezing where his hand had merely rested, and Mycroft's heart began to race.

 

“I'm going to be sick,” mumbled Uncle Rudy. “It's going to be torture chaperoning the pair of you.”

 

“That's not the only reason you're here,” huffed Mycroft.

 

“True,” agreed Uncle Rudy. “I fully intend to indulge in fine wine and exquisite dining and see what business opportunities there are in this appalling backwater. My beloved sister adored it so much I barely saw her, so it must have some merit.”

 

Mycroft drove them up the long avenue of trees towards the Hall. Childish shrieks and giggling could be heard from the trees as they passed underneath.

 

“Ragamuffins from the village,” said Mycroft dismissively. “And here we are. Welcome to Musgrave Hall.”

 

*

 

Mrs Hudson was waiting to receive them and chivvied the maids into sorting out the luggage before proposing tea on the terrace for Mycroft and his guests.

 

Mycroft and Lord Smallwood strolled in the formal gardens at the edge of the lake, arm in arm.

 

“It's very peaceful here, my dear.” Lord Smallwood ventured. “You seem quite at home among the trees and flowers. Quite different from the clubs and salons of London.”

 

“I can breathe here,” Mycroft admitted. “I wouldn't venture anywhere near London, for I am the world's most unclubbable man, if not for you, David. You understand my sadness and you have given me so many reasons to be happy. If it won't embarrass you terribly, I might even say that you saved me. “

 

Lord Smallwood blushed but could not hide a pleased smile.

 

“As you did me from false friends and hangers-on who cared only for my fortune.”

 

“Yes, though Uncle Rudy might still try and relieve you of some of it.” Mycroft laughed. Lord Smallwood pecked him on the cheek.

 

“Not with you by my side for the rest of my life, he won't.” Lord Smallwood added.

 

Mycroft was stunned by those words and tried hard not to show it.

 

“Let's get back to the terrace and see if Uncle Rudy has left any tea, shall we?” he asked.

 

*

 

John Watson pedalled as fast as he could up the drive to Musgrave. He couldn't believe his luck at having another telegram to deliver so soon. Hopefully he might be able to snatch a few minutes alone with Sherlock. He dumped his bike and hurried to where Sherlock's bedroom was located. He picked up a few pebbles and threw them with unerring accuracy at Sherlock's window.

 

“John Watson!”

 

John turned to see Captain Holmes glaring at him with another man looking confused and yet another, older, fellow looking amused.

 

“Oh, shit.” John thought to himself.

 

“What on earth are you doing?” Mycroft demanded.

 

“Nothing, Captain. I…”

 

When all else fails, toe the party line.

 

“Hail Victory!” John exclaimed, giving Mycroft a salute.

 

Mycroft grimaced.

 

“I have a telegram for Mr Seabrook.”

 

“I'm Mr Seabrook.” Uncle Rudy said.

 

“Yes sir.” John handed him the buff envelope.

 

“You've done your job, now get out.” Mycroft snarled. John took to his heels and cycled away as swiftly as he could.

 

“Mycroft, he's just a boy,” said Lord Smallwood soothing.

 

“And has designs on my little brother. I don't care for his nationalist politics either. I am British and hope to remain so.”

 

He scowled at Uncle Rudy's couldn't-care-less attitude and had to force himself to reply when Lord Smallwood asked where the rest of the family were.

 

“I had rather hoped they would be here to greet you,” said Mycroft with a frown.

 

“Perhaps that's why they've stayed away.” Lord Smallwood suggested. “It's been the five of you for so long now, any kind of change must be difficult for them to contemplate.”

 

Mycroft stared out over the lake. Change was inevitable and his family would have to learn to like it.

 

Loud shrieking from the lake drew all their attention. Mycroft couldn't believe his eyes as he watched his entire family in pirate fancy dress rowing a boat on the lake with Sherlock up front brandishing a cutlass and wearing an eye patch.

 

“Avast, me hearties!” Sherlock yelled, the others howled their reply while the architect of such chaos sat in the back of the boat and laughed, his dark eyes twinkling with the sheer joy of the moment.

 

Mycroft made his way down to the watergate as the boat drew level with him.

 

The pirates all stood up and yelled in welcome.

 

“Oh, Captain!” Gregory exclaimed. “You're home.”

 

Then the inevitable happened. The boat capsized, tipping its occupants into the lake.

 

Luckily it was fairly shallow at that point and the children managed to swim ashore while Gregory, with a suitable Naval oath, grabbed the mooring rope and towed the boat behind him.

 

“And you must be Lord Smallwood,” Gregory added, his heart sinking at the sight of the tall, handsome dark-haired man at Mycroft's side.

 

The rest of the Holmes family stood dripping lake water everywhere. Mycroft snatched the pirate hat from Sherlock's head.

 

“This is Lord Smallwood,” he said, glaring at all of them, then turned to his lover. “And these are my brothers and sisters.”

 

“How do you do?” Lord Smallwood asked with an ingratiating smile.

 

“Go and get changed,” snarled Mycroft. “Then come back here and say hello properly. At the double!”

 

The family scuttled off and Gregory tried to follow them but Mycroft's voice stopped him in his tracks.

 

“ Gregory. You will wait here.”

 

Lord Smallwood eyed the bedraggled novice with amusement and disdain. Making an excuse, he left and Mycroft and Gregory faced each other.

 

“Tell me, Gregory. Has my family been climbing trees today?” Mycroft asked.

 

“Yes,” replied Gregory, smiling. Even Sherlock had joined in, refusing to let Sherrinford beat him.

 

Mycroft brandished the hat.

 

“And where did they get these...these…”

 

“Dressing-up clothes. I made them.” said Gregory proudly.

 

“You did?”

 

“Well, there was a lot of old material lying around and I _did_ train as a tailor. They've got comfy clothes too for nature rambles and whatnot.”

 

Mycroft could feel his blood pressure rising even higher.

 

“They have their own clothes, obtained at no small cost to myself. They have no need for cheap tat like this!” He threw Sherlock's hat on the floor.

 

Gregory hid his hurt the way he always did by arguing the toss.

 

“They're kids! You can't expect them to run around and enjoy themselves if they're frightened of getting their designer clothes dirty.”

 

“They never complained before!”

 

“They wouldn't dare. They love you too much for that but from what I can work out, you're never here long enough to find that out!”

 

“I will not discuss my family with you any more!” Mycroft was scarlet in the face with fury.

 

“I know you don't want to but you have to. Sherlock and Sherrinford are the two brightest lads I ever met but not letting them live their best life is not helping them. John and Sherlock adore each other and the three of them will be at Cambridge before you know it. How many times do you think they'll come back here once they get away?”

 

“I will _not_ discuss…”

 

“And Eurus will be a young woman soon. Genius she might be but she still needs her big brother and little Molly just wants to be loved. Love them properly, Captain. That's all they ask.”

 

“That is enough!” Mycroft thundered.

 

“I'm not finished!” Gregory protested.

 

“Oh, yes you are. You will pack your things this minute and return to the abbey.”

 

Gregory felt like he had been punched in the gut.

 

Then both men heard it. The strains of voices accompanied by a guitar.

 

“ _Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.”_

 

“What's that?” Mycroft asked, distracted.

 

“Singing.”

 

“Yes, I know it's singing. Who is singing?”

 

Gregory sighed heavily.

 

“The kids. I helped them prepare a song to welcome Lord Smallwood.”

 

Mycroft turned on his heel and stalked off towards the sound. After a few seconds, Gregory followed him.

 

Mesmerised, Mycroft followed the glorious wash of sound to its source to find Lord Smallwood sitting enthralled on the drawing room couch with Uncle Rudy beside him as Mycroft's siblings serenaded them.

 

Mycroft mouthed the words of the song as they came back to him for it had been an eternity since there had been music in the house, then stepped into the group, harmonising perfectly with the others, much to their consternation.

 

“ _Without any seam or needlework. Then she'll be a true love of mine.”_

 

Gregory, cold wet and utterly miserable paused outside the drawing room door when he heard Mycroft's exquisite tenor blending with the rest and smiled to himself.

 

Heartsore he might be but it looked as if there would be music again at Musgrave and that could only be a good thing.

 

As the song concluded, the Holmes family dissolved into a massive group hug while Lord Smallwood and Uncle Rudy applauded.

 

Gregory trudged along the hall and was halfway up the stairs when he heard his name called.

 

It was a Captain Holmes with a soft smile and his incredible eyes bright with unshed tears standing there and Gregory stopped dead.

 

“I behaved badly,” Mycroft said. “I apologise. You brought music back into this house. Gregory, I want you to stay.”

 

“If I can be of any help,” replied Gregory, his heart soaring.

 

“You have already,” said Mycroft. “More than you will ever know. Will you stay?”

 

“Yes,”

 

TBC


	5. Chapter Five

With a final flourish of his bow, Sherlock brought the piece to an end to warm applause from Gregory, Uncle Rudy, Lord Smallwood and the rest of the family.

 

“Bravo, little brother. That was marvellous!”

 

“Terrific.” agreed Uncle Rudy. “I think I may have found my act for the Southwark Music Festival.”

 

“Really? And who would that be?”

 

“The Holmes Family Singers. Oh, you're all musically talented but when you sing, it's almost incandescent.”

 

“Don't be ridiculous,” snapped Mycroft. “My family will  _ not  _ be singing in public.”

 

Lord Smallwood patted Mycroft's hand.

 

“You're so protective of them,” he whispered. “That's incredibly sexy.”

 

Gregory noticed Mycroft blush and turned his attention to the other members of the family.

 

“Okay, who's next?”

 

Molly and Eurus whispered in Gregory's ear while Sherrinford stood with his hands in his pockets and a smug grin on his face.

 

“It's unanimous, Captain,” said Gregory with a smile. “It's you.”

 

“No!” Mycroft exclaimed. “I can't. It's been an age since I played. I'll deafen you all with dropped notes.”

 

“Then we'll call you Chickencroft.” Eurus announced. “Lord Smallwood won't like you if you've got a name like that.”

 

“She's right.” said Lord Smallwood with a teasing smile. “Play something for us, darling, and I swear no one will ever call you Chickencroft again.” 

 

Trying not to grimace at the ‘'darling” Gregory patted the piano stool invitingly. Mycroft stood up and stalked over to it, raising the lid and running his long fingers over the keys.

 

“Seems to be in tune,” he muttered and sat down, his face a study in concentration.

 

What followed was beautiful. Gregory wasn't that well versed in classical music but the melody touched him deeply and the sight of Mycroft's rapturous close-eyed expression made Gregory think some very un-monklike thoughts. Father Abbot would probably have a seizure at his next confession, so he diverted his attention to the others. Even Sherlock looked entranced and there wasn't a chemical in sight and when Mycroft stopped, Gregory felt bereft.

 

He was beaten to the congratulations by a very smug Lord Smallwood.

 

“Magnificent. Is there anything you're incapable of, my darling?”

 

Gregory slapped a timely hand over Sherrinford's mouth while simultaneously treading on Sherlock's foot.

 

“This house should always have music,” Lord Smallwood continued. “How about throwing me the party you promised me in London?”

 

“Yes,” replied Mycroft softly as he looked into Lord Smallwood's eyes. “I think it's time.”

 

*

 

Gregory and the four younger Holmes siblings watched the chauffeured cars pull up to the front door of Musgrave, each one disgorging a beautifully-dressed couple who handed their invitation to Anderson who was sweating like a beast in the traditional footman's livery.

 

“They all look so beautiful,”said Molly wistfully.

 

Sherlock and Sherrinford snorted in unison.

 

“Does your brother know  _ everyone _ ?” Gregory asked.

 

“Only the boring people. He never invites anyone interesting.” Sherrinford replied. “Gregory, do we  _ have _ to sing tonight?”

 

“You promised we would,” interjected Sherlock. “So stop trying to wriggle out of it, Sherry.”

 

“It's up to you,” said Gregory,” but you've been practising for ages. It would be a shame to waste it.” His eyes twinkled as another thought occurred.

 

“And if you  _ don't  _ sing then your brother will insist that you go to bed so he doesn't have to fret over you plotting to spoil things while he's la-de-da-ing down there with Lord Smallwood.”

 

Gregory would treasure the look of outraged innocence on every face at that statement.

 

“We wouldn't!” denied Sherlock, hotly.

 

“We thought about it,” admitted Eurus.

 

“You're all absolutely horrible,” sighed Gregory. “Let's sneak downstairs and see what's happening.”

 

*

 

Mycroft, resplendent in white tie and tails with his dress medals pinned to his jacket, stood outside the ballroom with Lord Smallwood receiving his guests as they arrived.

 

A dapper older man entered unaccompanied. His eyes were drawn to the Union Flag proudly displayed from the balcony and his eyes narrowed with distaste.

 

“Good evening, Mycroft.”

 

“Good evening, Charles.” Mycroft replied. “May I introduce Lord David Smallwood? David, this is Charles Augustus Magnussen.”

 

They shook hands and Magnussen favoured them with a small bow. He then stalked off to find one of his cronies to complain about the blatant showing of the flag, muttering about how things would change, and soon.

 

“Prickly fellow,” remarked Lord Smallwood. Mycroft sighed.

 

“I agree. He's an old friend of Father's so I couldn't not invite him. He's a rising star in the Far Right though. Wouldn't do to piss him off. And, yes, I did notice his face when he saw the flag.”

 

“Try not to think of him any more,” said Lord Smallwood soothingly. “Come and dance instead.”

 

Mycroft looked at Anderson who shook his head. No more guests were due so he took his lover's arm and let him guide him to the dancefloor.

 

*

 

“The viola player is a quarter-tone flat,” announced Molly as they lurked on the patio where they could see and hear everything.

 

“Doesn't matter.” laughed Sherrinford. “They'll soon be too plastered to care.”

 

“Look! There goes Mycroft.” said Sherlock gleefully. “He looks like a hippo on stilts.”

 

Gregory cuffed the teenager on the back of the head.

 

“Shut up, you. Your brother is not fat!”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes dramatically and rubbed his head, plotting definite vengeance at an unspecified future time.

 

Eurus took to the middle of the patio, curtsied to an invisible partner and started to dance. Then the music changed.

 

“I don't know this one,” she said, her steps faltering.

 

“It's an old English folk dance,” replied Gregory. “I learned it years ago in the orphanage.”

 

“Teach me,” implored Eurus, her eyes shining.

 

“It's been a really long time since I did this,” Gregory warned her. “I might stand on your toes.”

 

She giggled at that and Gregory straightened up then bowed deeply.

 

“May I have this dance, Miss?”

 

Eurus curtsied again as she said.

 

“Certainly, sir.”

 

*

 

Mycroft had lost Lord Smallwood to the company of Lady Fisher and her coven but hearing laughter coming from the other side of the open patio doors he went to investigate.

 

There were his brothers and Molly watching Gregory dance with Eurus. The man was grace personified, even when dancing with an awkward young girl. Mycroft could have watched him for hours.

 

The spell was broken when Molly rushed over and told Gregory that it was ‘'her turn”. Relinquishing Eurus, Gregory swung Molly off her feet as she clung to him shrieking with joy as the others cheered.

 

Mycroft bolstered his courage, stepped in and tapped Molly on the shoulder.

 

“Do allow me.” he insisted and Molly stepped back, her eyes bright with glee as Mycroft took Gregory's hand and led him into the middle of the patio.

 

They quickly caught the rhythm of the dance; the steps returning to Gregory like a well-loved song as they swirled and turned, incredibly close with Mycroft smiling into Gregory's eyes with every step. Gregory was close enough to smell Mycroft's cologne, the novice part of him fretting mildly that they were taking part in an ancient ritual that allowed unmarried couples to touch without censure while the part of him that had sailed the seven seas and fought in a war revelled in the intimacy, smiling back at his handsome partner.

 

Unseen, Lord Smallwood stood in the doorway, deeply unamused at the sight of his lover dancing so closely with another man, and a servant to boot.Especially the way they were looking at each other, like two people falling in love.

 

The dance brought Gregory and Mycroft within kissing distance, then Gregory faltered and backed away.

 

“I don't remember any more,” mumbled Gregory.

 

“Your face is all red,” said Molly helpfully.

 

“I'm not used to dancing,” said Gregory and Mycroft looked perturbed.

 

“That was beautifully done. What a lovely couple you make!” Lord Smallwood announced.

 

“Yes. I, er, think it's time the family said goodnight.” said Mycroft.

 

“Yes,” replied Gregory brightly. “We've got something special planned for them.”

 

Sherlock's comment of “Sarin gas.” earned him another clip round the ear.

 

“We'll be ready in a couple of minutes. Come on, you lot.” said Gregory, shooing them away and following himself.

 

And they sang. ‘Greensleeves’ was followed by ‘'John Peel’ and there was nothing but rapturous applause afterwards.

 

“I told you!” Uncle Rudy was grinning like the cat who got the canary. “Imagine what they could do with a festival audience!”

 

He caught sight of Gregory trying to slink away and grabbed his arm.

 

“Not so fast. Mycroft, I insist this man joins the party.”

 

“But I'm not dressed properly or anything!” Gregory protested.

 

“It's fine, Gregory.” Mycroft said with a smile. “Go and change. We'll wait.”

 

Gregory hurried upstairs to change and Lord Smallwood followed.

 

*

 

“Your brothers and sisters are marvellous. You must be so proud.” Lady Fisher enthused. Mycroft bowed at the compliment.

 

“It defines what is so great about this country of ours, the voices of our youth,” added a passing Lord.

 

“Come now,” said Magnussen. “ _ English  _ voices.”

 

“Charles, some of us prefer  _ British  _ voices raised in song to ugly nationalistic threats.”

 

Magnussen glared at Mycroft.

 

“You know what is about to happen and yet you hide away in your Utopia. Perhaps if we set our policies to music, you would understand.”

 

“My dear Charles, if the Nationalists take over and split Britain apart, I'm sure you will be the entire trumpet section.” Mycroft bowed again. “Excuse me, I must find David.”

 

*

 

“It's awfully kind of you to want to help,” said Gregory to Lord Smallwood. “But I've been dressing myself since I was three. Besides, I don't think I've got anything to wear to a posh dinner.”

 

“Nonsense,” scoffed Lord Smallwood. “What about that delightful suit you wore the other day? The Captain couldn't keep his eyes off you.”

 

“What do you mean?” Gregory asked.

 

“Even though you're going to be a monk you can't tell me you don't know when a man notices you.”

 

“The Captain notices everyone and everything.”

 

“He would hardly be a man if he didn't find you incredibly attractive,” Lord Smallwood went on.”For you are.”

 

“I hope you're joking, Lord Smallwood.” 

 

“I'm not. And even if you've done nothing to encourage him, there is nothing more irresistible to a man than someone who's in love with him.”

 

“In love with him?” Gregory seemed to have lost the power of independent speech.

 

“He also thinks he's in love with you. You must have seen the way he looks into your eyes. And how you blushed when he held you in his arms.”

 

Gregory sat heavily on the bed.

 

“I have to leave. I can't stay here.”

 

Lord Smallwood watched as Gregory visibly shook himself, reaching under the bed for his old Navy kitbag then standing up and stuffing it with his possessions.

 

“Can I help?” asked Lord Smallwood.

 

“No. Yes. Please don't say a word of this to Captain Holmes.”

 

“Very well. Goodbye, Gregory. I'm sure you'll make a very fine monk.”

 

Lord Smallwood closed the bedroom door behind him.

 

*

 

Gregory made sure there was no one around as he crept down the stairs. The party was still in full swing and would be for hours yet. 

 

He carefully placed the letter to Mycroft where it would be spotted. He hadn't known what to say but could hardly leave without saying goodbye. 

 

He would miss them all so much but he had to remove himself from temptation.

 

The huge front door closed behind him silently.

 

TBC

  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter Six

Under the willow tree which grew on the other side of the lake, far away from disapproving fraternal eyes, Sherlock lay with his head in John's lap. The stiff material of John's new uniform made a scratchy pillow but Sherlock was disinclined to move, especially with John's hand gently stroking his hair.

“I miss him.” Sherlock announced.

“Who, Gregory?” John was astonished.

“Yes. We all do. It's just not the same without him. We did interesting things and now we're stuck watching my brother and his paramour make eyes at each other over dinner. “

“Not for much longer,” said John with a smile. Sherlock returned it with equal brilliance.”September will soon be here.”

“I'd better get back,” John added. “Father wants me to run some errands for him before parade tonight.”

Sherlock's nose wrinkled in distaste.

“You're an intelligent man. Why would you believe in all that Nationalist crap?”

“I don't. My dad does, though. Joining the Party just makes life a bit easier. You're lucky, Sherlock. Your family is rich and Mycroft being in the Army reserves means there's less pressure on your family.”

“I suppose so. Kiss me before you disappear?”

John was happy to oblige.

*

Lord Smallwood and Uncle Rudy sat on the terrace sipping crisp white wine and watching the younger Holmes siblings playing beside the lake. 

“Hard to imagine you taking this lot on when you marry Mycroft,” said Uncle Rudy.

“The twins will be off to university soon. As for the girls, there's a wonderful thing called boarding school. I think it would do all of them good.” said Lord Smallwood.

Uncle Rudy lifted his glass in salute to a master manipulator as Sherlock joined the other three and they made their way to the terrace.

“We should practice for the festival,” suggested Uncle Rudy.

“I don't feel like singing without Gregory,” said Eurus mutinously.

Mycroft came out of the house, frowning slightly at his unhappy siblings but accepted a glass of wine from Lord Smallwood.

“Is it true that Gregory won't be coming back?” Molly asked.

“Gregory? Yes, I suppose it's true.” Mycroft replied.

“I don't believe it!” Molly wailed.

“It's what he said in his note. He said he missed his life at the abbey too much and he had to leave us. That's all there is to it.”

Mycroft sat beside Lord Smallwood and took his hand.

“He didn't even say goodbye,” said Eurus with a pout. “So who is our new tutor going to be?”

Mycroft exchanged a loaded glance with Lord Smallwood then said.

“You're not going to have a tutor any more. You're going to have a new brother. We talked about it last night and it's all settled and we're all going to be very happy.”

Mycroft lifted Lord Smallwood's hand and kissed it, missing the appalled look the rest of the family shared with each other.

Uncle Rudy tried not to look amused as the rest of the family offered their half-hearted congratulations.

*

Brother Peter was startled when the doorbell to the abbey sounded. Secular visitors were rare. Brushing down his habit, he walked to the wicket gate to find two young men and two younger girls waiting impatiently.

“Can I help you, my children?” Brother Peter asked. Judging by their clothes and the gleaming car parked outside, they hadn't come to beg for alms. He opened the gate and beckoned them inside.

“We're here to see Gregory,” announced one of the twins.

“Wait here a moment,” said Brother Peter.

A couple of the other monks had stopped and Brother Peter was only too happy to pass this one on.

It was Brother Philip who approached them with a benign smile on his face.

“I'm Brother Philip. I understand you're enquiring about Gregory.”

“We have to see him!” Sherrinford exclaimed. “Will you tell him we're here please?”

“I'm afraid I can't do that,” said Brother Philip.

“You must,” insisted Sherlock. “He went away…”

“Never said goodbye or anything,” added Eurus.

“All we want to do is talk to him.” concluded Molly.

“I'm very sorry, children, but Gregory is in seclusion. He hasn't been seeing anyone.”

“He'll see us,” said Sherrinford. “Won't he?”

The others nodded vigorously.

“Some other time,” said Brother Philip. “I'll tell him you were here.”

Brother Philip shepherded the complaining Holmes’ out of the gate and wished them a safe journey home.

Troubled, he returned to the cloister where Father Abbot was waiting.

“What was all that about, Brother?” 

“The Holmes children. They want to see Gregory.”

Father Michael frowned.

“Has he spoken yet? Has he told you anything?”

Brother Philip shook his head.

“He doesn't say a word, Father Abbot, except in prayer. It's strange. He seems happy to be back here yet he's unhappy too.”

“I think you'd better bring him to me, even if he's not quite ready,” said Father Michael worriedly.

“Yes, Father.” said Brother Philip obediently.

*

The knock came to his office door and Gregory, in his novice's habit, came in to the Abbot's invitation.

Gregory knelt and kissed the ring on his extended hand as Father Michael placed his other hand on Gregory's head in blessing.

“You've been unhappy. I'm sorry. Why did they send you back to us?”

“They didn't send me back, Father. I left.”

Father Michael steeled himself.

“Sit down, Gregory. Tell me what happened.

“I was frightened.” Gregory admitted. Father Michael frowned.

“Frightened? Were they unkind to you?”

“Oh no!” Gregory exclaimed. “I was confused. I-I never felt that way before. I knew that here I'd be away from it, I'd be safe.”

“Our abbey is not to be used as an escape,” said Father Michael. “What is it you can't face?”

Gregory buried his face in his hands.

“I can't face him again!”

“Him? Captain Holmes?”

Gregory did not reply.

“Are you in love with him?”

“I don't know!” Gregory's reply was anguished. “Lord Smallwood said he was in love with me but I didn't believe him. There were times when we would look at each other, oh Father, I could barely breathe.”

“Did you let him know how you felt?”

Gregory stood up and began pacing around the office.

“If I did I didn't realise. That's what's been torturing me. I was there on God's errand. To have asked for his love would have been wrong. I just couldn't stay. I'm ready at this moment to take my final vows. Please. Help me.”

Father Michael smiled at his distraught novice.

“Gregory, love between men is holy too and you have a great capacity to love. What you must find out is how God wants you to spend your love.”

“But I pledged my life to God, to his service!” Gregory insisted.

“My son, if you love this man it doesn't mean you love God less. No, we must find out. You must go back.”

Gregory looked horrified but Father Michael was insistent.

“Gregory, these walls were not built to shut out troubles. You must live the life you were born to live.”

Gregory bowed his head in obedience.

*

Mycroft stood with his arms folded surveying his mutinous siblings.

“Where have you been? I turn my.back for five minutes and you have all disappeared along with the car. Well?”

There was no reply. Mycroft sighed heavily.

“The sooner I am married and there is another pair of eyes to watch you, the happier I'll be.”

He turned and stalked off, his back rigid with temper.

“I don't want to think about him getting married. Can you imagine Lord Smallwood trying to tell us what to do?” said Sherrinford.

“It makes me want to wash my brain out with bleach,” agreed Sherlock. He saw Molly's bottom lip start to tremble and his gaze softened. 

“Hey, when Gregory wanted to feel better he used to tell us to think of our favourite things, remember?”

Eurus clapped her hands.

“Yes! Let's do that.”

Molly tried,but the only things she could think of at that moment involved someone she would never see again.

“Why don't I feel better?” she asked, wondering why the others were suddenly smiling.

“Because you missed out the special part,” said a deep voice. Unwilling to believe her ears she turned around and threw herself into a smiling Gregory's arms. He hugged her tight, then Eurus and shook hands with the twins.

“I missed you all,” said Gregory. “I've got so.much to tell you.”

“So have we,” said Sherlock. “Mycroft is getting married to Lord Smallwood.”

Gregory tried to hide his shock.

“I see,” was all he said and the sight of a familiar figure approaching did nothing to ease the sudden ache in his heart.

“Look, Mycroft!” Eurus exclaimed. “Gregory's back!”

Mycroft looked at Gregory with startled pleasure.

“Go and get ready for dinner,” he said to his siblings. Once they rushed off he turned his attention to Gregory again.

“Good evening. You left without saying goodbye, even to the children.”

Mycroft could hardly bear the sweetness of Gregory's smile.

“It was wrong of me. Forgive me.”

“Why did you?”

Gregory frowned but Mycroft sensed the pain behind it.

“Please don't ask me. The reason no longer exists.”

Lord Smallwood looking impossibly elegant in his evening suit joined them with a smile for Gregory that didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Look who's back. Isn't it wonderful, Mycroft?”

Mycroft could not tear his gaze from Gregory.

“I wish you every happiness, Lord Smallwood. You too, Captain. The children tell me you're getting married.” said Gregory.

“Why, thank you, Gregory.” said Lord Smallwood.

“You are back to, er, stay?” Mycroft asked, ignoring his fiancé.

Gregory shook his head with genuine sorrow.

“Only until other arrangements can be made. Excuse me, I need to unpack.”

Mycroft watched him, oblivious to all else, till Gregory disappeared from view.

TBC


	7. Chapter Seven

Gregory was deeply unsettled after dinner. Seeing Lord Smallwood's doting expression every time he looked at Mycroft gave Gregory the urge to either hit something or burst into tears. Neither would serve his beloved family though. He was now looking forward to returning to the abbey to take his final vows, to create beautiful sacred texts in the scriptorium and forgetting his shameful love for a man who did not love him back.

 

He wandered out into the gardens, making his way towards the placid beauty of the lake. He smiled to himself as he remembered the capsizing pirate ship and how excited the children had been as he taught them how to row the boat.

 

Gregory would take that memory with him. He doubted God would object to him clinging to that moment of pure happiness.

 

He moved on, unaware that he was being watched.

 

*

 

Mycroft had tried to avoid staring at Gregory all through that torturous dinner. He took pleasure in his siblings’ joy at having Gregory returned to them but the look of peaceful resignation on Gregory's face was hard to bear so he devoted his attention to his fiancé. 

 

Even as David prattled on, Mycroft realised there was no way on earth he could marry him. Not when he was completely in love with someone else.

 

He went out onto the balcony to escape briefly but the sight of Gregory bathed in moonlight as he strolled beside the lake was almost too much to bear.

 

Mycroft's heart sank when a familiar voice said.

 

“Oh,  _ there  _ you are!”

 

He turned to see Lord Smallwood smiling at him.

 

“I was wondering what to buy you as a wedding present,” Lord Smallwood began. “Something particularly special. A villa on the south of France, perhaps? But they are so incredibly difficult to wrap. And then there's the honeymoon. I would like to show you the whole world, darling.”

 

Mycroft looked at him sorrowfully. This was going to really hurt but there was no other way.

 

“David,” he said. “It's really no use.”

 

Mycroft saw the light die in his eyes but before he could say anything else, Lord Smallwood imperiously raised his hand.

 

“I'm sorry, Mycroft. It seems you're not the man for me after all. I shall pack my bags and return to London.”

 

Lord Smallwood shook his head as Mycroft tried to speak.

 

“No, my mind is quite made up. Somewhere down there is a very fine man who loves you and who, I think, will never be a monk. Goodbye, Mycroft.”

 

Lord Smallwood turned and left without another word.

 

Mycroft stood for a moment, dazzled by his sudden freedom and the import of Lord Smallwood's words before haring down the stone stairs after Gregory.

 

He found him outside the summerhouse and received the gift of an unguarded smile.

 

“It's a beautiful night, Captain.” Gregory said.

 

“It's very good to have you back,” ventured Mycroft.

 

“I made a vow,” said Gregory firmly. “And I came back to fulfil it.”

 

“Is that all?” Mycroft asked.

 

“I missed the children.” 

 

“Only the children?”

 

“No.” Gregory bit his lip. “Yes. Isn't it right that I should miss them?”

 

“Yes! Yes of course. I was only hoping that you might...er…” Mycroft spluttered to a halt.

 

“Yes?”

 

Mycroft couldn't look at Gregory any more.

 

“Nothing was the same when you were away and it'll be all wrong again after you leave. I thought you might change your mind.”

 

Gregory moved away towards the summerhouse.

 

“I'm sure Lord Smallwood will be able to make things fine for you.”

 

“Gregory, there isn't going to be any Lord Smallwood. We've called off our engagement.”

 

Gregory looked genuinely confused.

 

“You see.” Mycroft continued, closing the distance between them. “You can't marry someone when you're in love with someone else.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Gregory,I think I've been in love with you ever since you sat on that damned pine cone.”

 

Gregory smiled and it seemed to Mycroft that the world exhaled as he drew Gregory into his arms and kissed him. Gregory's lips were soft and warm and Mycroft clung to him like a drowning man.

 

“I love you too.” Gregory admitted. “What did I do in my life to deserve someone as wonderful as you?” 

 

They kissed again, a little more heat this time, and Mycroft rejoiced at having such a passionate man  in his arms.

 

“Gregory,” he began, certain that this was absolutely the right time. “Is there anyone I should ask for permission to marry you?”

 

Laughing, Gregory shook his head then a devilish gleam came into his eye. Mycroft caught his meaning immediately and they said in unison.

 

“The children!”

 

*

 

“Commiserations, Gregory.” said Sherlock when they broke the news. “Now you'll be stuck with my fat brother forever.”

 

“Shut it, you.” Gregory said with a smile which hadn't left his face since Mycroft proposed.

 

“I want to be your best man,” Molly announced.

 

“You can't, sweetheart.” Gregory said with a tinge of regret. “You're not old enough. None of you are.”

 

“I'm going to ask Uncle Rudy,” said Mycroft. “Darling, would one of your brethren serve as your witness?”

 

“It's okay, love. I know who to ask. I just need to send a telegram.”

 

“I'll come with you to the office,” said Sherlock hastily and blushed as Sherrinford and Eurus sniggered.

 

“And what about the ceremony?” Mycroft asked.

 

“I can sort it out with one phone call,” said Gregory, taking Mycroft's hand and dragging him into the study. He picked up the receiver and dialled a number, smiling at the man who held his whole heart as he waited for the call to be answered. Finally…

 

“Hello? Father Abbot? It's Gregory.”

 

There was some muffled squawking then…

 

“No, I'm not coming back to take my vows. I'm sorry. However I do have a question. Will you marry me?”

 

*

 

Gregory grinned at how Sherlock tried to hide his eagerness to get to the telegraph office. Once inside, he disappeared as Gregory approached the counter.

 

“Good morning, sir. How can I help you?” asked the clerk, peering at Gregory over his glasses.

 

“I want to send a telegram. It'll be to a ship. Will that be a problem?”

 

“Not at all, sir.” The clerk handed Gregory a form which he filled in quickly.

 

_ To: Capt. S. Donovan. MS Esperanza. _

 

_ Getting married in three weeks. Would love it if you were my best man. Reply Musgrave Hall, Surrey. Chief. _

 

“Is that who you're asking? Captain Donovan?” Sherlock had returned, his eyes bright and his lips reddened with kisses. “What's he like?”

 

“You'll see,” replied Gregory with a grin as he handed over the form and the money to the clerk, who thanked him. “Let's get back. Your brother has asked his tailor to stop by and measure us for our wedding suits.”

 

“Tedious,” yawned Sherlock.

 

“You and Sherrinford too,” added Gregory.

 

“Less tedious. He'd better obey my instructions to the letter.”

 

“Right you are, your highness. Come on.”

 

*

 

Gregory was on the patio the next day listening to Molly practice her viola. He had a sketchpad on his lap on which he had rendered the young musician in charcoal but for now he was silently giving thanks for the incredible blessings he had in his life.

 

“Er, Mr Lestrade?”

 

He turned to see John Watson standing with a buff envelope in his hand. “Telegram for you, sir.”

 

“Thank you, John. I'm afraid I don't know where Sherlock is.”

 

“It's okay, sir, I need to get back.” He gave the odd salute of the Nationalist Party. “Hail Victory!” 

 

Gregory scowled and waved John off. The sudden rise in popularity of this ridiculous party was enough to sour anyone's mood. To distract himself he opened the telegram.

 

_ Congratulations Chief! Will be there. Looking forward to meeting the unlucky bastard who wants you for a husband. S. _

 

He laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks. It would be incredible to have someone at the wedding that knew him from before. Someone he would trust with his life.

 

*

 

Gregory was on the patio sharing a bottle of fine Burgundy with Mycroft. His fiancé had just  suggested the most perfect honeymoon destination and Gregory was leaning in to kiss him when there was a screech of tyres outside.

 

“What on earth is that?” Mycroft asked.

 

They heard a car door slam and Philip's voice raised in protest.

 

“I think my best man has arrived,’ said Gregory with a smile.

 

Sherlock and Sherrinford slouched onto the patio, quickly followed by the girls.

 

“What's all the noise?” Sherlock asked.

 

Just then, Philip with a highly put- upon expression appeared.

 

“Mr Lestrade, Captain Donovan is here.”

 

That fact became self-evident as a handsome woman with dark curly hair pushed past Philip and threw herself into Gregory's arms.

 

“Hi, Chief! It's been forever! How are you?”

 

“I'm great, Sally,” Gregory replied, smiling.

 

A pointed throat-clearing made him release her.

 

“I'd better introduce you properly. Everyone, this is Captain Sally Donovan. Sally, this is my fiancé Mycroft and his brothers Sherlock and Sherrinford. And these are his sisters Eurus and Molly.”

 

Sally shook hands with everyone, Molly looking at her like she had just fallen from the stars.

.

“ _ You're _ Captain Donovan? You're a woman!.” exclaimed Sherlock. 

 

“Brilliant deduction, Sherly,” said Eurus acidly, rolling her eyes.

 

“Why do you call him Chief?” asked Sherrinford.

 

“We served together in the Navy during the war.” Sally explained.” Gregory here was the Chief Petty Officer. Everyone called him Chief. He was the best. Once the war was over, he decided to become a monk.”

 

She looked at Gregory, her laughing brown eyes crinkled up at the corners.

 

“I see that worked out well for you, Chief. I prefer this option.”

 

Gregory took Mycroft's hand in his and kissed it.

 

“So do I.” he replied softly.

 

Sally kept everyone entertained at dinner that night with some scandalous tales of Navy life but she told everyone she was saving her favourite stories about Gregory for her best man's speech, and Mycroft patted Gregory's hand as he groaned aloud.

 

*

 

The morning of the wedding dawned bright and clear. Gregory hadn't seen Mycroft since the day before as his fiancé was a great believer in upholding old values so he forced some coffee down as his stomach hatched a new swarm of butterflies.

 

He bathed and dressed in his wedding suit and was wrestling with his tie when there was a knock on his bedroom door.

 

Mrs Hudson stood there with his buttonhole in her hands, smartly dressed in her own wedding outfit.

 

“Oh, don't you look handsome!” she cried. “Captain Holmes is a very lucky man.”

 

“I'm the lucky one, Mrs H.” said Gregory, hugging her.

 

“Here, let me.” Mrs Hudson insisted, swatting his hands away and fixing both his tie and buttonhole to her satisfaction.”Much better.”

 

A vision in emerald green silk appeared in the doorway.

 

“Ready to go, Chief?”

 

“Sally? You look incredible!” Gregory exclaimed.

 

“Doesn't she?” said Mrs Hudson proudly. She and Sally had clicked immediately and Gregory suspected there had been a lot of gin and gossiping after most sensible people were in bed.

 

“Let's go then,” said Gregory after a final look in the mirror and linked arms with the two women as they walked out to the waiting car.

 

*

 

Gregory fidgeted nervously in the vestry as Father Michael robed himself for the ceremony. Once his vestments were arranged to his satisfaction, he beckoned to Gregory who knelt before him and felt Father Michael's hands on his head as he spoke the traditional wedding blessing.

 

He had just stood up when Brother Philip bustled in.

 

“We're ready, Father.”

 

Gregory swallowed nervously.

 

“Come along, my son.” said Father Michael. “Let's get you married.”

 

*

 

In front of the altar stood Mycroft in his regimental dress uniform, his hand fiddling with the hilt of his ceremonial sword, Uncle Rudy murmuring soothingly in his ear. In the pew behind him were the rest of the family, sworn to their best behaviour, while on his side of the church in front of his black-robed brethren Sally stood out like a jewel. Gregory felt his nerves vanish as he stepped close to Mycroft, took his hand and the ceremony began.

 

*

 

“I now pronounce you married,” said Father Michael. “You may now kiss your husband.” This was to Gregory with a very unholy twinkle in the Abbot's eye.

 

Gregory was only too happy to oblige.

 

TBC

  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter Eight

_ One Month Later _

  
  
  


Uncle Rudy was highly delighted as he led the Holmes children from the rehearsal.

 

“Fantastic, my loves.” he enthused.

 

“You're wasting your time. Mycroft will never let us perform,” Sherrinford reminded him.

 

“Leave your brother to me. That's if he gets back from his honeymoon before the competition.”

 

Uncle Rudy shepherded the younger children towards the car but was brought up short by Charles Augustus Magnussen. Flanked by two Nationalist officers in stark black uniforms the man was not shy in giving the now compulsory salute.

 

“Hail Victory.”

 

Uncle Rudy made a sort of half-hearted reply as his family clustered around him.

 

“What can I do for you, Mr Magnussen?” Uncle Rudy asked politely.

 

“It has come to the attention of the Party that Musgrave Hall is the only house in this village which refuses to display the Nationalist flag.” Magnussen announced, puffed up with his own importance. “Since our glorious Leader has gained power, it's compulsory to show the new flag. The United Kingdom is no more. England is on a path to glory!”

 

Uncle Rudy stopped admiring his manicure and looked into the eyes of the fanatic. He could feel the anger and the nervousness of the younger ones and it was deeply upsetting.

 

“You will have to take that up with my nephew, Mr Magnussen. I'm sure he'll be delighted to discuss it with you when he  returns from his honeymoon.”

 

Magnussen's lip curled in contempt.

 

“His  _ honeymoon. _ Our Leader is preparing laws to annul such abominations. However that is a discussion for another day. “

 

Abruptly Magnussen turned on his heel and marched off, leaving Uncle Rudy fuming and the others looking worried.

 

“What did he mean?” Molly asked. “Will that horrible man make Gregory go away?”

 

Uncle Rudy shook his head and made shooing gestures towards the car.

 

“No, my little one. No one is going anywhere. Now, let's…”

 

“Sherlock?”

 

Sherlock turned at the sound of his name and couldn't stifle his cry of dismay. John Watson, dressed in the uniform of the Nationalist Army. In his hand was a telegram which he offered to Sherlock but there was no affection or recognition in his eyes.

 

“John. What on earth…”

 

“The telegram is for Captain Holmes. It has come from the very highest military authority. See that he gets it.”

 

John shoved the envelope into Sherlock's unresisting hand and marched away.

 

Uncle Rudy took the stricken boy's elbow and steered him forwards. He remembered all too well the agony and the ecstasy of first love. Poor Sherlock would need some very careful handling from now on…

 

*

 

Gregory drove the Bentley slowly along the country lane while Mycroft rested his head on his husband's shoulder.

 

“Nearly home, darling.” said Gregory. Mycroft responded with a lazy smile and a soft kiss to his Gregory's cheek.

 

“It has been an incredible month,” smiled Mycroft. “I didn't think I could love you more than I did the day we were wed, yet you continue to surprise me. Which was your favourite place?”

 

“The south of Spain. That perfect villa right beside the sea, you skinny-dipping every morning, it was beyond perfect. We saw some amazing places, love, but I'm always happiest when I'm with you.”

 

“As am I,” replied Mycroft. “You have brought me a happiness I never thought to find outside a trashy romance novel. I love you so much, my Gregory.”

 

“I love you more,” said Gregory as they turned into the long drive that led to Musgrave Hall. “It's good to be home.”

 

“Ah, yes. I do hope the children have behaved themselves. I believe I owe Uncle Rudy a holiday of his own.”

 

“I bet they've driven him potty.” laughed Gregory.

 

“You are a Holmes now,” his husband reminded him sternly. “So they get to drive you potty as well.”

 

Gregory's deep laugh echoed round the grounds as they turned round the final bend.

 

“What the hell is  _ that  _ doing there?” Mycroft yelled as Gregory stopped the car and they both got out.

 

A flag hung from above the doorway but it wasn't the Union flag. With one swift movement, Mycroft pulled it down and stared at the red cross bisected by twin lightning bolts with undisguised loathing.

 

Before either of the men could say anything, another car pulled up and the newly-weds were surrounded by their cheering, noisy family.

 

“When did you get back?” Eurus demanded.

 

“Where did you go?” Molly asked.

 

“Presents?” asked the twins.

 

Mycroft and Gregory looked at each other and laughed. 

 

“Presents are inside, we sent them ahead. We'll tell you all about where we've been at dinner.”

 

With one last hug the family vanished inside leaving the three older men still on the gravel.

 

“When did this disgrace happen?” Mycroft asked as he calmly ripped the flag he still held in two.

 

“When I was in town with the family. Magnussen did look awfully smug about something.” said Uncle Rudy.

 

“We came back as soon as we heard about the election,” said Gregory, frowning. “I knew the country was in trouble but I never predicted this.”

 

“It'll be war.” said Mycroft heavily. “Civil war. Us against people we've co-existed peacefully with for centuries just to satisfy one psychotic man's feelings of inadequacy.”

 

“Shhh!” Uncle Rudy looked fearful. “You can't say things like that! They might take you away.”

 

Mycroft scoffed and threw the shredded flag on the floor just as Sherlock came hurtling out the front door, his brand new microscope cradled as tenderly in his arms as a newborn.

 

“Mycroft! I almost forgot. There was a telegram for you.” Sherlock eased it out of his shirt pocket and offered it to his brother.

 

“Thank you, brother dear. I take it you like your gift?”

 

Sherlock's face was one big grin of unalloyed pleasure and he nodded before rushing back into the house.

 

“So what's in the telegram?” Gregory asked. 

 

Mycroft opened it and the colour drained from his face.

 

“What, love?” Gregory grabbed the telegram from an unresisting Mycroft and read it.

 

“They can't make you do that, can they?” Gregory demanded.

 

“Do what? Will you two stop being cryptic?” asked Uncle Rudy.

 

“According to this I am henceforth restored to my Army rank and instructed to report to Portsmouth the day after tomorrow to assume my new command by order of the Leader.”

 

“So it's war,” said Uncle Rudy heavily.

 

“It would appear so. Come, we should join the others for the little time I have left,” replied Mycroft. He took Gregory's hand in his and they walked into the house where the rest of the family were eagerly awaiting them.

 

Allowing Uncle Rudy to precede them, Gregory whispered.

 

“What are you going to do, my love? You know what will happen if you go.”

 

Mycroft took his husband in his arms and kissed him.

 

“I'm not. I will not have this family ripped apart. And there is no way on earth that I will be parted from you, my beloved.”

 

Gregory smiled. “I think we need to have a family conference, don't you?”

 

“Indeed we do. Our siblings know very well which way the wind is blowing. I'm sure we will come up with a solution.”

 

*

 

The following night, Mycroft, Sherlock and Uncle Rudy pushed the Bentley slowly down the gravel drive while Sherrinford steered. Behind them walked Gregory, holding the hands of Eurus and Molly.

 

“What about Mrs Hudson and Philip?” asked Eurus. “Won't they be worried?”

 

“They will be fine,” Gregory reassured her. “When they come looking for your brother then Mrs Hudson and everyone else can say that they don't know where we are.”

 

“Will we ever be able to come back?” wondered Molly.

 

“One day,” replied Gregory. “When all this madness is over. For now it's best if we get out of the country to keep us all safe.”

 

The girls accepted the wisdom of this, Eurus's eyes sparkling at the thought of an adventure.

 

They reached the road and Mycroft wiped his forehead.

 

“Right. Everybody…”

 

His words died as two sets of car headlights were switched on, the cars effectively blocking the road.

 

The doors of one opened and two men got out, one in uniform the other wearing a very satisfied expression. Magnussen.

 

“Good evening, Captain. Car trouble?” Magnussen asked with obviously fake sympathy.

 

Mycroft put on his most ingratiating smile.

 

“Yes. Dashed thing won't start. Can't understand it.”

 

“Corporal,” said Magnussen to the uniformed man at his side. “Start the Captain's car.”

 

“Yes. Captain, your keys.”

 

Mycroft handed them over and winced as the Bentley started straight away.

 

Magnussen drew very close to Mycroft and hissed.

 

“Now, Captain. Any more lies you want to tell me? How about we start with where you and your entire family were going? The night before you return to active service?”

 

Mycroft drew himself up to his full height and stared down his patrician nose at Magnussen.

 

“That, Charles, is very easily explained.”

 

Gregory could almost see the cogs whirling in his husband's brain and hoped Mycroft had a good explanation.

 

Or they were all dead.

 

TBC


End file.
